grey

The wind was hot and the talk of tornado warnings and high winds made me want to skip out of work early and run down to the lake and take pictures of blowing sands, bending trees, and roaring waves.

But I'm at my desk getting stuff done and realizing that my camera may not survive that onslaught, knowing that I only have a few more minutes here. I look out at the grayness of the sky, the sheets of rain, and I long for my apartment full of warm light, a cup of tea, some good music, and one of my dad's frayed flannel shirts, missing the conversation of roommates but hoping to find some inspiration in the peace and maybe start painting again. As much as I enjoy the company of other arty types, I do my best work alone.

For some reason I've been really wanting to hear some Ani Difranco, and the pallor of the day brought this song roaring back to me. I tend to be more ideologically square than my musical taste alludes to, and there's no album of hers that I can listen to all the way through but the way she plays a guitar and grabs some of those emotions hits me.



"regretfully
i guess i've only got three
simple things to say:
why me?
why this now?
why this way?
with overtones ringing
and undertows pulling away
under a sky that is grey
on sand that is grey
by an ocean that's grey"

"what kind of paradise am i looking for?
i've got everything i want
and still i want more
maybe some tiny shiny key
will wash up on the shore..."